


The Tank

by Silverskin



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Anal Play, Milking, Muscle Growth, Nipple Play, Other, Tentacle Rape, Tentacles, Urethral Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 06:01:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17441285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverskin/pseuds/Silverskin
Summary: Chris awakes to find himself in a troubling situation.





	The Tank

**Author's Note:**

> First written in 2012, corrections and minor rewrites made.

Chris Redfield’s mind crept towards consciousness.

Sluggish neurons fired up, achingly slowly.

Eyes still closed, his body stirred, each leg feeling oddly unrestricted, as if he were hovering above his bed. An appealing desire urged him to drift back off, but he couldn’t. It was as if he was being pulled, ripped from his slumber by force. The part-lucid agent somehow sensed that all was not well. His eyelids slowly peeled open, and the surprising sensation of Luke-warm liquid washed over his eyeballs before they had a chance to uncross. He wasn't in bed. He was vertical, with his chin touching his chest. Some sort of tube sat close to his face, filling his blurry vision and partly obscuring the view down his upright body. His form seemed pallid, its tones washed out by the blue tint of whatever he was floating in. He blinked hard a few times, lifting his head. Trying to sharpen his focus. Feeling the warm rush of fluid through his hair, sloshing in his ear canals.

Fully awake now, Chris found himself suspended in a cylindrical glass tank, not much bigger than him, its illuminated floor panel casting deep upward shadows from each of his toned muscle groups.

His NAKED muscle groups.

Arms pulled up over his head, his hands were out of sight, buried to the wrists inside two projections jutting down from the steel roof of the chamber. The tube in front of him was an air hose, leading down to a clear breathing mask secured tightly over his mouth and nose. More wires and tubes where connected to some sort of metal collar clamped around his neck. With the world beyond the glass hidden by an opaque steel sheath, Chris tried tugging vainly a few times on his solid metal bonds, to no effect. And two or three firm kicks at the glass did little good either.

_What the hell IS this?_

His last waking memories rushed back to him.

_The mission._

_Umbrella's base under the Atlas Mountains._

Fresh Intel had indicated that a new bioweapon had just been completed there, and that a clutch of North Korean generals were about to arrive to inspect the prototype. After a perfectly aimed parachute drop, he and the squad had descended on ropes into the base’s ventilation system. Guards had fallen like bowling pins in a torrent of laser-guided shots, their blood spraying the walls as the team had penetrated deep into the facility, planting C-4 charges in every lab they passed, ready for a little firework display on their way out. Everything up to that point had gone as planned. All that remained was the bioweapon storage lab at the very heart of the complex.

Housed in a huge cylindrical building sitting in a deep rock-cut chasm, its entrance had lain at the far end of a single steel catwalk, no more than a man's-width. Silently, Chris had gestured with his fingers for the rest of the team to take up defensive positions at the threshold while he had moved slowly out across the dark void to work the control panel fixed beside the door.

"I hope to hell this works,” the agent had muttered under his breath, reading the stolen security code on a pad on his forearm.

With sweat beading on his forehead, he’d firmly tapped one number after the other into the glowing green keys. 

Inputting the code however had a quite different result to the one he had intended, and Chris had only remained oblivious to that fact for a few more seconds.

A computer, even deeper inside the base, had sprung to life.

“ **VOICEPRINT AND D.N.A PROFILE CONFIRMED…#REDFIELD.C#…IDENTIFIED** ”

Its smooth female tones had raised a smile from the man watching the screen.

“Good evening…my old friend.”

Two flashing words on the monitor had lifted the man’s grin even higher.

#INITIATING PROCEEDURE#

Just as Chris had tapped in the last digit, the whole panel had flashed a violent red and died, the light cast down onto the catwalk from above suddenly extinguishing. Fearing the worst, he had turned to flee, but before he could hit his first stride, a steel blast door had dropped hard over the exit, cutting him off from Alpha team. In total darkness, his laser sight had been the only source of illumination, but the sound of his heavy breaths had been quickly joined by a whole range of mechanical whirring. A panicked shot had rung out from his pistol as its green beam had reflected off something metallic moving fast through the air towards him.

Huge robotic jaws had clamped onto his waist, followed quickly by more on his arms and legs. They had held him there, struggling but still standing on the catwalk, as two more of their number had approached.  One arm had pushed a needle into his neck, extracting a blood sample from him with surgical precision, while another had seemed to envelope the whole top half of his head, its flat, finger-like projections pressing firm against his scalp. Chris had bucked wildly against his attackers, but all protests had ended swiftly when the device on his head had activated.

“GET THE FAAAAAAAAAuuuuaaaaaa...” His protest had distorted weirdly, the words bending and stretching as they poured out of his mouth.

Electro-magnetic waves had washed over his brain, filling his cranium with a dizzying buzz. Memories had spilled across his mind’s eye, overlapped and crashed with each other in a tangled mess as the device had mind-fucked him. Groaning Zombies, screaming Majini, soldiers, guns, bombs, all of it recalled at lightening-speed. In amongst the torrent, his one last sane recollection before blacking-out had been the echoing sound of his gun clattering onto the metal beneath him.

_Captured…FUCK._

He wasn’t given long to dwell on his failure. With a hiss of hydraulics, the sheath covering the tank began to drop. Light from outside slowly crept down his face, making him wince at the strength of it. After taking a moment to grow used to the glare, he could finally see what waited outside. A circular desk surrounded the tank. Packed with equipment and terminals, the countless wires and cables snaking away from it converged on the top of the cylinder. A clutch of technicians, smartly decked-out in crisp white lab coats, busied themselves behind it, totally absorbed in computer read-outs and button-pressing. Their faces were unfamiliar, but the grinning face of the man in the long black coat stood eyeballing him was most definitely not.

“Rise and shine," Albert Wesker whispered, arms crossed and smiling at the glaring soldier, his impassive red eyes, as ever, concealed behind shades.

Without breaking out of his stare-off with the defiant hero, his gloved right hand dropped gently onto the shoulder of his seated chief technician, making the man jump.

“Start the procedure,” came Wesker’s ice-cold command, prompting a flurry of switch-flicking and touch-screen manipulation from all around him.

One of the smaller tubes snaking up towards the tank’s chunky steel cap twitched and shivered from the rising pressure of whatever it was carrying. A stinging in his neck beneath the metal collar had Chris’ heart pounding, as he realised it wasn’t flowing into the chamber, it was flowing into him.

“Nothing yet,” said one tech, watching read-outs on a screen.

“Raise the flow rate to 50%”, Wesker ordered impatiently, making the scientist look up.

“Already sir? His-his system might not be able to cope.” The worrisome tech stuttered.

“Oh, he can take it, I’m quite sure of that,” smiled the villain, every word dripping with self-confidence.

In the fluid, all Chris could hear of the conversation was vague muffled noises, quickly replaced in his attentions by the tingling sensation now growing in his body.

“Hang on, we’re getting something,” the tech declared, leaning in expectantly towards his monitor.

Every head in the lab shot up as Chris suddenly bucked in the tank, his back arching until his cobblestone stomach was pressed against the glass. Spasms rippled through his whole musculature, his legs drawing bubbles from the water as they thrashed about wildly.

“This shouldn’t last long sir. Once the virus has saturated all his tissues, the convulsions should cease.” Reassured the technician.

And quickly, it did. Calm settled in the chamber once more, giving Chris a chance to catch his breath.

“What the hell was THAT??,” he panted, steaming-up the breathing mask.

“Start the nutrient feed,” Ordered Wesker, watching as another thin tube connected to the tank shuddered as a pump pushed fluid through it.

Although his body had stilled, Chris’ musculature itched with a deep heat, as if a blazing fire were burning in his core. He didn’t think it possible that a man could feel sweaty underwater, but there it was. The itching only grew stronger, the fluid suspension having no quenching effect at all despite him being immersed fully. A thousand tiny midge bites tormented every inch of his skin, making the agent struggle with a desperate need to scratch himself all over. He even tried pulling his legs up to his torso, futilely attempting to rub his belly with his hairy thighs.

That’s when he spotted it.

His pecs.

_What the..._

He swore that he saw them swell, just a little, just for a moment.

“It’s starting,” the smug scientist outside boasted as he watched Chris staring intently at his own chest.

 _There it is again! What the fuck!?_ cold panic hit him as a second wave of growth inflated his already-impressive pectorals.

Another, and another.

Other muscles now. His, his biceps, his thighs.

They all slowly inflated, the growth seeming to ripple sinuously through his tissues.

“Hmm, the effects are occurring more slowly than our models predicted,” mumbled the tech behind his desk, making Wesker look down at him.

“Then then you know what to do...don't you Dr Smith” he prodded with fake annoyance, drawing a knowing smile from his employee as he spotted the implication.

“Understood sir...going to 100%”.

More and more of the potent feed coursed into Chris’ bloodstream, making the arteries beneath his skin bulge as the virus compelled his body to stack itself with acres of new muscle. His whole frame swelled. Neck chords thickened, shoulders broadened and limbs beefed-up until he looked ready to burst. And to top it all off, his pillow pecs were now augmented by two huge nipples, their dark nubs grown thick as a man’s thumb.

But the transformative virus wasn’t quite finished, and was about to perform one more stunning alteration.

_JESUS CHRIST!_

Chris stared wide-eyed at his groin as his manhood engorged of its own volition. In five seconds flat it was at full mast, standing proudly to attention with the skin of his broad, pale-purple glans stretched tight as a drum skin. But it didn’t stop there. Without pause, it continued to grow, sprouting thick and proud from its hairy anchorage like an oak. His shaft gained mass in great pulses, the thick meandering veins under its skin expanding to deliver nutrient-packed blood to his virus-ridden erectile tissues. Chris shook, overcome by the spine-tingling nerve impulses pouring from his ballooning pillar.

_WHAT THE FUCK ARE THEY DOING TO ME!?_

A tugging at the root of his scrotum alerted him to growth there too. His balls had also receiving the virus’ gigantifying effects, swelling to the size of softballs and straining their sack, hanging low against Chris’ bulked-up thighs. On top of that, his glans was now as broad as his angular jaw, capping an enormous vein-wrapped granite-hard column. The heavy hyper-dick sent out a squeak from the tank as the last pulse of growth pushed it up the glass.

‘ **ENHANCEMENT COMPLETE** ’, flashed bold green letters on the monitor, the computer automatically ceasing the flow of nutrient to the tank now the work was done.

“Magnificent,” smiled a satisfied Wesker, his eyes rolling over the immense superman he had just created, eventually meeting with his contempt-filled eyes once more.

“Huh, and still so defiant…. some things never change. Well, now that he’s ready, I think it’s time we put him to good use.”

Chris was given no time to grasp what had just been done to him. Noises above drew his gaze. Just forward of his head, a CD-sized hole in the chamber’s lid dilated like a camera aperture A few moments of aching silence followed, leaving the hero’s nervous, unblinking eyes to await whatever new torment was inbound.

A movement.

Something dark was at the threshold. Another few seconds passed before its hesitance subsided and it made itself known to the horrified agent.

“Holy Shit!!,” he yelled into his mask, as the unmistakable form of a thick, oil-black tentacle undulated and curled its way out of the pipe.

Bodiless, the four feet of fat appendage cleared the aperture just before it sealed again, glancing off Chris’ hyper-enlarged manhood as it squirmed eel-like through the water to the chamber’s floor. Silhouetted by the glow beneath, the blind leech-like mutant circled the tank, prodding at the glass and coiling around itself below Chris’ feet to gain a sense of its new environment. What this mutant creature had in store for the human watching it slithering he dreaded to think. He tried to lift his dangling feet a little to avoid giving it the opportunity to show him, but his bulk so filled the chamber now he could barely move.

“Oh, that won’t do you any good my dear fellow,” whispered Wesker, and he was right.

The tentacle my not have had eyes, but it had other senses aplenty. Its suddenly halted mid-movement, turning upwards towards the heat, scent, and electrical field pouring out of the enlarged form above. Chris had no desire to meet with its rising snout, and tried in vain to lift his legs up again, the huge new bull-glutes that had blossomed out from his pelvis pressing firmly against the glass

It was futile. Chris knew that. He was sealed in with the thing.

But his defiance had still prompted him to stave off as long as he could the sensation that was now creeping over his right foot. He tried to kick it away, but its stretchy length spiraled up his ankle with frightening speed. With dark skin as slick as a bar of soap, it’s journey up Chris’ thigh was equally effortless as it sought out the prize it’s instincts were driving it to find.

“uuAH- g-GODD, NOT THERE!,” the agent begged, shaking his head in despair as he watched the appendage make its first turn around the base of his cock.

It hugged the broad column’s skin tight, corkscrewing its way to the top.

“You see? Keep them hungry and they’ll waste no time,” Wesker crowed, reminding his genetic engineers of the good advice he had given them earlier.

Like a boa constrictor preparing to swallow its prey, the thing brought its front end around and levelled it with the tip of Chris’ huge fluted glans, but instead of opening up to engulf it, it’s tip elongated to a  near-needle point and pressed into the slit.

“FFFFUCK", Chris threw his head back so hard it almost tore the mask from his face.

Being boneless and almost infinitely malleable, the tentacle could make its warm flesh as hard as leather, or as yielding as gelatine, and was now putting that talent to good use on the agent’s massive member.

With his cock wrapped from its hilt to the rim of its glans in rubbing, stroking coils, and his urethra forced to bare more and more of the same probing tentacle, Chris could hardly draw breath. The new size of his cock amplified all the ministrations being performed upon it ten-fold, exciting every nerve cluster there.

“My my, getting excited are we?” Wesker chuckled, watching the rising heart-rate reading on the monitor.

The way the appendage totally engrossed itself in gaining the agent’s seed made it look to those outside more like it was mating with his dick than servicing it. A full ten inches of its tip were now pistoning in and out of his urethra in perfect time with its external massage, causing jolts of pleasure that momentary knocking all logic out of the poor hero’s tormented mind.

 _Keep it together Chris, just hold on,_ he willed himself, screwing his eyes shut.

But the starving creature was unrelenting, and would not be denied a meal. Its actions only grew more intense with time, savagely raping his hyper-hard-on until the conflicted hero was at the very edge.

“NNO!, FFF-FUCK GOD N-NNOOOO!” came his muffled scream as a torrent of semen flooded from his upgraded balls, rushing up his cock to meet the now wide open orifice straining it’s insides.

Seed-filled gulps bulged the tentacle’s flanks as it drank its fill of the longest orgasm Chris had ever had. So full and high pressure was it, that some of his spunk was seeped around the swallowing limb, falling as a milky cloud through the water of the tank.

By now the eyes of every man in the room were dry from lack of blinking, so transfixed were they on the surreal sex act playing out before them. All of course except those of Albert Wesker, who continued to watch with a Buddha-like expression on his face.

“There we are. That wasn’t so bad now was it?” he purred as the tentacle pulled out and Chris’ tensing form finally slumped.

His calm was to be short lived however, for the mutant still clinging so purposefully to his genitals was now stirring in a new and bizarre way. The top two feet of it uncurled from his shaft and began spasming in the water, its thick flanks rippling with muscular contractions.

 _Is it dying?_ Chris hoped, watching it convulse wildly.

His hopes would soon be dashed, thanks to the polyp developing on the tentacle’s side. It swelled with every spasm, projecting away from the skin to the point where it suddenly became horribly clear to Chris exactly what it was.

“Oh god,” he muttered, emotionally exhausted by the sight of a second tentacle springing from the first.

It grew at incredible speed, quickly matching the other in length and girth before popping free and sinking down to the tank’s floor.

“Congratulations, it’s a boy,” Wesker declared darkly, much to his employee’s pleasure.

This new abomination copied the actions of its parent, and proceeded to climb Chris’ leg, but its final destination proved to be a quite different one. A choked gasp escaped the agent’s lips as he felt his horse-glutes being parted by the burrowing limb. He clenched his sphincter hard, determined to at least stop this invasion if nothing else, but it too proved futile. The appendage simply morphed itself, lengthening and narrowing its tip to slip through almost effortlessly. Once it had made this first breach, it was only a matter of increasing its girth on the other side to throw his rear entrance wide open.

Uneven expletives issued in a long stream from Chris in response to the disturbing and unfamiliar feel of a tentacle secreting itself inside him. Swelling and bending to get its full four feet in, Chris could see his eight-pack bulging from the appendage filling his passages. His ring sealed neatly behind the vanishing tail-end, only to open wide again a few moments later. A foot of it protruded out and then shot back in, sodomising Chris from the inside and matching the rhythm of the tentacle now restarting its feeding on the abused soldier’s super-cock. Seemingly joined by some telepathic link, they synchronised their work to coax another life-giving orgasm from out of his fast-replenishing loins.

All too soon for Chris, he came again, blasting his potent sperm into the ravenous monster’s waiting maw. Once more a new tentacle sprouted from its side, followed after a third orgasm by another. These two decided to make use of a new food source, that in all the commotion, Chris hadn’t noticed until they snaked up his torso to reach it. Both had caught the scent of the two faint, smoke-like wisps falling from his chest through the suspension fluid. A puff of white sprayed into the water from both his chunky nubs when their arrival on his upper body agitated his massive pectoral slabs, and he only had a second to register what it was before both creatures clamped down hard on the mountainous nipples.

_MILK?!_

He could feel their fleshy mouths sucking and grinding at the sensitive prominences, the first squirts of man-juice setting of a desperate feeding frenzy. Both tentacles curled into a spiral on each pec, pumping at his chest muscles to force out even greater mouthfuls of the nourishing liquid.

A solid hour of fevered milking commenced, with new offspring bursting from each wicked appendage with a clockwork regularity. And each time they’d spasm, the pinching from their twitching mouths would merge with the anal and urethral assaults until a bone-shaking climax wracked his gargantuan figure. So it continued, his new body never seeming to run dry, pumping out gallons of food for the flexing mutants until the bottom half of the chamber filled with their dark forms up to his calves, all writhing around each other within a misty layer of spilt cum and milk.

By this point, Chris had long since given himself over to the obscene use being made of his body, welcoming the nerve-burning sensations.

Happy to be corrupted by them.

He was an organ now, not a man. Part of a machine for making tentacles.

“That’s the nineteenth one sir. That should be enough for us to work with.” The chief scientist said, leaning up to await Wesker’s decision.

“Hmm, lets round it up to an even number shall we? And let him have just a little more fun. Then we’ll bring this amusing little dis-”

The villain was cut off mid-sentence by the glare of flashing red lights and the howl of alarm klaxons. 

" **INTRUDER ALERT, LEVEL SEVEN SECURTY BREACHED** ", barked the emotionless base computer.

Soon after, distant gunfire could be heard approaching the lab.

“Ah, it seems we have company gentlemen. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll make a discreet exit ahead of you. Collect up the new samples and follow me to the helipad,” commanded the blond, before vanishing at cheetah-speed up the emergency escape shaft.

They did as ordered, fearing Wesker’s wrath even more than the fire fight growing nearer and nearer in the corridor outside, but they were not given the time to carry out those orders. Orange and yellow flames erupted into the lab as the main doors were blown open, followed swiftly by a hail of bullets. Fleeing scientists tumbled over their desks in a bloody mess of lab coats and shattering monitors, sparks raining down on them from the damaged equipment as they were taken down.

In only a few seconds, it was over. The lab fell eerily still but for the tumbling clouds of smoke. Even the tentacles feeding from Chris had frozen, somehow sensing the danger. Heavy with dust, the smoke quickly thinned out, revealing to him a group of shadowy figures pacing carefully through the doorway. It had also cleared enough for him to read the bold red words emblazoned on the wrecked door they had just blown in.

**LABORATORY 4 - HUMAN SUBJECT CLONING**

A horrifying realisation come upon him as the man at the head of the team emerged first into the light.

A man staring back in shock...with the same face as his own.

Chris Redfield...the _REAL_ Chris Redfield.


End file.
